


Smile

by Brumeier



Category: NCIS
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Tony can't keep up the charade anymore? Tag for S5 ep Requiem</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile

**Author's Note:**

> **Standard Disclaimer:** I don't own the rights to the song or the characters. All just for fun.
> 
>  **PLEASE NOTE:** The song listed represents the artist who inspired me, not the writer (which, yes, I know is Charlie Chaplin).
> 
> Originally posted on FanFic.net in August 2011

  
**Smile,** Lyle Lovett

  
_Smile though your heart is aching_   
_Smile even though it's breaking_   
_When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by_   
_If you smile through your fears and sorrows_   
_Smile and maybe tomorrow_   
_You'll see the sun come shining through for you_

_Light up your face with gladness_  
 _Hide every trace of sadness_  
 _Although a tear may be ever so near_  
 _That's the time you must keep on trying_  
 _Smile, what's the use of crying?_  
 _You'll find that life is still worthwhile_  
 _If you just smile_

_That's the time you must keep on trying_  
 _Smile, what's the use of crying?_  
 _You'll find that life is still worthwhile_  
 _If you just smile_  


* * *

McGee watched Tony, as surreptitiously as possible. He was worried, but knew that if he expressed his concerns aloud he’d only be teased. Tony was acting as if it were a normal end to a normal day, when nothing could be further from the truth.

_Gibbs and Maddy were already on their way to Bethesda by the time McGee and Ziva arrived on scene. Ziva went immediately to consult with the law enforcement officials, but McGee caught sight of Tony sitting on the back of an ambulance, an oxygen mask pressed to his face._

_“Tony! You okay? What happened?”_

_DiNozzo had waved him away, and so he’d asked one of the paramedics. The woman was more than happy to tell him what she knew, all the while throwing admiring glances back at the senior field agent._

_“Agent DiNozzo is a hero! He dived in after the people in the car, pulling them both out at serious risk to his own safety.”_

_“Agent Gibbs and Maddy Tyler,” McGee clarified._

_“Agent DiNozzo gave them both CPR. He saved their lives.”_

_“Is he going to be okay?” Because from where he was standing, Tony sure didn’t look it. He was wet and pale, and it didn’t take a medical professional to tell McGee that all that cold water diving hadn’t been good for his damaged lungs._

_“Well, he really should go to the hospital, just to be sure, but he’s refusing anything other than the oxygen. Maybe you could talk to him,” the paramedic suggested._

_McGee rolled his eyes. Yeah, like he could talk Tony into anything. Still, he nodded and headed back to the ambulance. Tony was just handing back the oxygen mask and shrugging out of the thick wool blanket that had been draped over his shoulders._

_“I think you should…” McGee started to say, but he was quickly interrupted._

_“I’m going back to the office to start the report. You and Ziva finish up with the LEOs and then head to the hospital, check on Gibbs. Abby’s already on her way.”_

_“Tony…”_

_“Probie! Get to work. I’m fine.”_

But he wasn’t fine. McGee could see the fine tremors that Tony was trying to hide. He heard the muffled coughs, saw that he still looked pale. Ziva had laughed off his concerns, told him that Tony’s behavior was normal, given the events of the day; he disagreed. Tony’s actions had truly been heroic, and it was because of him that Gibbs had already been treated and released. So where was the bragging and the victory dance?

Tony stood up and stretched, wincing as he did so. He bent down to grab his pack, which he slung over his shoulder.

“You are leaving?” Ziva asked, fingers pausing over the keyboard.

“This report’s done and so am I.”

“Hot date tonight?” McGee asked, because he knew it was expected. Tony just grinned at him.

“I’d tell you all about it, Probie, but I wouldn’t want to damage your virgin ears.”

“Will you come with us to see Gibbs?” Ziva asked.

“I think he’s seen quite enough of me for one day,” Tony said with a lopsided shrug. He went to Gibbs’ desk, dropped a sheet of paper on it. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Want me to give you a lift?” McGee asked, trying to think of some way to be helpful.

“Think I can still drive, Probie.” Tony pulled a face at him. “You guys finish up and head home. It’s been a long day.”

He walked out of the bullpen and towards the elevator. McGee couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He supposed Gibbs would call it his gut, and right now his gut was telling him not to let Tony leave. But his brain insisted that if Tony needed something, he’d say so.

“See you Monday!” he called as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Tony didn’t reply, just waved a hand in his direction and stepped onto the elevator. The doors slid shut and he was gone.

Without hesitation, McGee got out of his chair and went to Gibbs’ desk to see what Tony had left there. Ziva watched him, clearly curious.

“What is it?” she asked.

“He’s taking a two week leave, effective immediately.” McGee had been right after all; something was up with Tony.

“And he did not tell us first?” Ziva was up like a shot, and snatched the paper from McGee’s hands. “He must be off his boulder.”

“Rocker,” McGee corrected automatically.

“Should we tell Gibbs?”

“No.” McGee took the letter back and returned it to the desk. “He’ll see it on Monday morning.”

_And then he’ll fix it, whatever’s wrong._

*o*o*o*

As soon as Tony was out of the building, he let the smile fall from his face; his cheeks were sore from keeping it in place so long. He was glad to be out from under McGee’s eagle eye, glad to be away from everyone period. He was exhausted, and cold, and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep.

The desire to go to Gibbs’ house and make sure he was alright was strong, but he made himself drive back to his apartment. Tony was certain that his boss wouldn’t appreciate being fawned over, and he honestly couldn’t stand the thought of whatever awkward thanks that Gibbs would offer him.

Tony’s apartment was warm and welcoming, and he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders as he stepped inside. He decided that once he took a hot shower, he’d come back to the living room and settle in on his plush brown sofa. There were rows and rows of DVDs there, arranged alphabetically, and he decided that this would be a good Magnum night.

The hot water felt wonderful on his back and shoulders, but Tony couldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t get the image of Gibbs’ staring, dead eyes out of his head; never before had he come so close to losing the one person who mattered the most to him.

_“Don’t make me kiss you, Boss.”_

_Anyone listening would’ve thought he was just being his normal self, deflecting with humor, but it had been a heartfelt plea. How often had he fantasized about kissing Gibbs, imagining how their lips would feel pressed together? It wasn’t supposed to be like this, with Gibbs so cold and still beneath him._

_He divided his breath between Maddy and Gibbs, though he didn’t honestly care about the girl. But Gibbs did, and so Tony did all he could for the both of them. By the time they were breathing on their own, he himself was pulling in painful breaths and anxiously listening for the ambulance._

Tony got out of the shower and wrapped up in his flannel robe, hugging himself for extra warmth. He took two Tylenol and after a moment’s hesitation got out the nebulizer as well. If he didn’t take care of himself, he’d be the one in the hospital and he wasn’t ever going back there if he could help it.

He spent the rest of the night wrapped in a big quilt on the sofa, watching episodes of Magnum, drinking Irish coffee and refusing to think about what had happened, how close he’d come to losing Gibbs. Tony couldn’t help pretending, even to himself, that everything was alright. He kept hoping he’d fool himself into believing it.

*o*o*o*

Tony’s sleep had been plagued with nightmares, and he eventually gave up on bed and wandered into his kitchen to make breakfast. He had no idea what he was going to do with himself for the next two weeks; there’d been no plans for a vacation or anything, he just knew he couldn’t stand to be at work right now. Fact was he couldn’t face Gibbs, not yet. Maybe not ever.

He only ate half his bagel, and pushed the other half around the plate. He’d worked for Gibbs now…what?...seven years or so? Tony had been attracted to him early on, but helplessly in love with him for the last four. He’d never told anyone, especially not Gibbs, and cultivated his playboy image to hide behind. But it was getting harder and harder to keep that smile plastered on. Harder to pretend he didn’t relish each and every head slap; he knew just what to say to get one.

Four years was a long time to carry a torch for someone. A long time to wish that Gibbs could see him, really see him. Tony had thrown himself into his work, pushed himself to do whatever was asked of him however distasteful it might be, all to somehow prove his worthiness. For a time he’d even been able to lose himself with Jeanne, relishing his role as Professor Tony DiNardo because that man had never been in love with someone who didn’t love him back, had never felt the crippling pain of rejection time and time again.

“Stupid,” Tony muttered to himself. He tossed the remains of his breakfast in the trash and decided to go for a run. It was one of the few times he could get out of his own head, focusing instead on his stride, his pulse, the burning in his muscles.

He didn’t give a thought to the stress he’d put his body through the day before, and by the time he’d run a quarter mile he was wheezing and bent over in pain. Tony mentally kicked himself for thinking he could run today, and for forgetting to bring his inhaler. His apartment seemed incredibly far away, but he fought back the first tendrils of panic and forced himself to start moving.

With one arm wrapped around himself, Tony got mostly upright and started making his way back. He tried to focus on slowing his breathing but it was increasingly difficult for him to focus. He was in sight of his apartment when his legs gave out and he found himself sitting on the sidewalk, his back against wrought iron fence that separated his building from the one next door. 

Each breath he took was shallow and burning, and he closed his eyes against it. He tried to think of an applicable Gibbs rule, but the best he could come up with was Rule 3, never be unreachable. Tony fished his cell phone out of the pocket of his running pants, but just held it in his hand. Who would he call? Everyone was off doing their weekend things, and he knew they’d laugh at him for doing something this stupid.

“Rule…six,” Tony wheezed. “Show…no…weakness.”

He knew that wasn’t right. He’d have to make it a DiNozzo rule instead of a Gibbs rule. If you show no weakness, no-one can use it against you. He fumbled the phone back in his pocket.

“Tony! Are you okay?”

He opened his eyes, somehow not surprised to see McGee kneeling beside him on the sidewalk.

“Did you actually go out for a run? After yesterday? Where’s your inhaler?”

“McNag,” Tony wheezed. He waved his arm and McGee grabbed hold of it, helping him stand. “Ele…vator.”

“Tony, I don’t…” McGee swallowed whatever else he might have said when Tony glared at him.

He hated having to lean so heavily on McGee, but he couldn’t help it. His chest was burning and his vision was starting to get hazy around the edges, which wasn’t a good sign. No hospital. He wasn’t going back to the hospital.

“Not…again,” he gasped. 

“What?” McGee asked. “Hang in there, Tony. Look, here’s the elevator.”

They both stumbled in when the doors slid open. Tony propped himself up against the wall and closed his eyes. Third floor. He’d be back in his apartment before he knew it. Once again he tried to focus on his breathing, tried to slow it down, but he practically hyperventilating now.

When the elevator jerked to a stop, Tony barely noticed. McGee ducked under his arm and started propelling him forward.

“Come on, Tony,” McGee grunted. “Pick up your feet.”

Tony tried, but the pain in his chest was too distracting. If he’d been himself, he’d have had some biting comments for the junior agent who was patting him down looking for his keys. McGee got the door unlocked and kicked it open.

“Where’s your inhaler?” he asked desperately. He dropped Tony onto the couch, where he immediately doubled over and wrapped his arms around himself. 

“Ki…kitchen.”

McGee wasn’t gone long. He shoved the inhaler into Tony’s hand and Tony took two long pulls off of it, waiting for his chest to loosen. When there was no immediate change, he knew he was too far gone for that. The inhaler fell out of his hand and bounced on the thick carpet.

“Neb…neb…”

“Nebulizer. Where?”

Tony pointed one trembling hand toward the bathroom and McGee took off at a run. Gibbs would give him the mother of all head slaps for this one, he though woozily. He was always screwing up. Asphyxiating in his own apartment…at least it would be memorable.

“Take this, Tony. Come on.” McGee was back, pressing the plastic face mask over his nose and mouth. The nebulizer kicked on with a whirr and Tony was assaulted by the bitter taste of his medication. Gradually the tightening in his chest eased and he was able to sit back, exhausted. When the meds were all gone, he reached over and flipped the switch on the nebulizer, enjoying the quiet that followed. He didn’t get to enjoy it for long.

“You should go to the hospital,” McGee said, pacing. “What were you thinking?”

“I’m fine, McGoo.” Tony knew he should get up and put the nebulizer away, proving to the younger agent that he meant what he said. But he just couldn’t work up the energy. He wanted nothing more than a nice, long nap.

“Tony, is this…is this about yesterday?”

Tony sighed. “I forgot my inhaler. End of story, McGee. Don’t you have somewhere to be? Ballet class? Quilting bee?”

“Maybe I should call Gibbs…”

“No!” That was enough to get Tony up and off the couch. He didn’t know what expression was on his face, but it made McGee take a step back. “I’m fine, Probie. I’m going to lie down and rest, and you’re going to go. Thanks for stopping by and everything.”

McGee protested as Tony pushed him to the door, but he knew better than to push it any further.

“Okay, okay. I’m going. I’ll call you later.”

“Unplugging my phone,” Tony replied. He pushed McGee over the threshold and shut the door, resting his head against it once he’d done so. He knew he’d probably sounded ungrateful and rude, but he just couldn’t deal with McGee’s mother hen routine right now. He wanted to be alone.

“Thanks, Tim,” he whispered. Leaving the nebulizer on the coffee table, Tony trudged wearily to his bedroom and dropped face down on the bed.

*o*o*o*

Gibbs washed the dirt from his hands before heading back down to the basement. The events of the last couple days had been difficult, both emotionally and physically, but he felt better than he had in a very long time. In helping Maddy, he’d somehow achieved some closure with Kelly and Shannon. Burying Kelly’s time capsule had been a sign that he was ready to let go; he didn’t need to hold the pain so close anymore.

He grabbed a square of sandpaper and started rubbing gentle circles on the wood that formed the bow of the boat. His chest was still sore from Tony’s CPR yesterday, but he didn’t mind. It meant he was alive. He would talk to his senior field agent on Monday morning, and thank him for what he did. He’d gone above and beyond, and Gibbs wasn’t sure how he could repay that.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps upstairs. Gibbs sighed. So much for some quiet time. He’d been visited by Ziva, McGee and Abby last night, and a part of him was a little disappointed that Tony hadn’t come; maybe this was him now.

“Boss?”

Nope, not Tony. McGee made his way cautiously down the stairs, stopping before he reached the bottom. He looked nervous. Gibbs wondered if the boy would ever relax around him.

“Something I can do for you, McGee?”

“I just…ah…how are you feeling today?”

“McGee.”

“It’s Tony,” McGee said in a rush. “There’s something up with him, I don’t know what, but I went to see him today – he was barely breathing – and he’s taking a leave and I’m really worried.”

Gibbs felt a pull in his gut, all the good feelings he’d been enjoying just a moment ago vanishing in the face of McGee’s anxiety.

“What do you mean, barely breathing?”

“He went for a run, Boss. Without his inhaler. And he probably should’ve been in the hospital after yesterday, but he wouldn’t go.”

Gibbs cursed. How could he have forgotten? He knew Tony had taken heroic measures to save his life, and Maddy’s, but he hadn’t given a thought to the fact that he could’ve hurt himself as well. He knew better than anyone how weak Tony’s lungs still were, knew how susceptible he was to respiratory infections.

“Sit Rep, now.”

McGee dutifully gave his report, starting with arriving on the scene yesterday and ending with him being almost thrown out of Tony’s apartment. He left out nothing, and Gibbs absently rubbed his own chest when he heard how much trouble Tony’d had breathing.

“You should go over there, Boss,” McGee said. “You need to talk to him.”

“That an order, McGee?” There was a warning note in his voice that should’ve backed the young agent off, but McGee had apparently worked himself into a state. He gripped the stair railing tightly, his face getting flushed.

“With all due respect, Boss, you’re the only one he’ll talk to. He’s not taking care of himself. You need to do something.”

“You ever think maybe DiNozzo just needs to be alone?” Gibbs said, struggling to keep his temper.

“If you’d seen him…”

“I’ll handle it, McGee,” Gibbs said dismissively, turning back to his boat.

“Even if you call him…”

“I said I’ll handle it!” Gibbs shouted. McGee frowned, and then stomped back up the stairs, slamming the door as he went out.

“Damn it.” Gibbs started sanding again, forcing himself not to press too hard or do it too roughly just because he was upset. He couldn’t really blame McGee; the kid was only trying to help. He was grateful that he’d been there to help Tony.

He should’ve known something was up. He was the team leader, and these agents were more than just his staff…they were his family. Gibbs knew more about them than they knew about each other, and he could guess at some of what was going through Tony’s head right now. His senior field agent was extraordinarily self-contained, though to the casual observer he seemed just the opposite. All mouth and child-like behavior, taking nothing seriously. Gibbs knew better.

Tony had learned the hard way, from his cold, never-there father, to keep the best of himself hidden behind layers of movie quotes, frat boy stories, and tales of female conquests. The only part of himself that was seen was what he let be seen, and no more. But Gibbs had peeked behind the masks, and everyone on his team had gotten glimpses of the real Tony as well. The real Tony was strong and intelligent, compassionate and caring, resourceful and quick on his feet.

Gibbs had seen the potential there when they first met back in Baltimore. He’d known Tony would be a good fit for NCIS, and for his team. But somewhere along the line he’d become more. A trusted ally and a loyal friend. Beyond that were feelings that Gibbs didn’t want to acknowledge, an attraction that he couldn’t afford to act on.

With a heavy sigh, he gave up on the boat. Tossing the sandpaper aside, he poured himself a shot of bourbon from the dusty bottle on the shelf. He’d told McGee he’d handle it, and he would. Gibbs decided he’d pay Tony a visit tomorrow, see if he could get him straightened out. Maybe he could smooth out some of the rough spots, like he did on the boat. He couldn’t afford to lose Tony. None of them could.

*o*o*o*

Tony slept much longer than he’d planned. It was hours later, and he likely wouldn’t have woken at all if not for the insistent pounding on his front door. If it was McGee again, he was going to shoot him.

“Coming! Jeez.” He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to wake up. As he passed the mirror in the hall he saw his hair was sticking up in crazy spikes, and he half-heartedly patted them down. A look through the peephole in the door had him wishing for McGee.

“Tony!”

For the second time that day he found it hard to breathe, only this time it was because he had a forensic scientist wrapped around him like a boa constrictor.

“Abbs. Abby. Can’t breathe.”

“Oh, sorry!” Abby let him go and ducked back into the hall, returning seconds later carrying a large cast iron pot. She breezed right past him and headed toward the kitchen.

“Uh, Abbs? Doing some spell casting?”

“Funny. This is my world-famous Make You Better chicken soup. I just need to heat it up a little.” Setting the words to action, she set the pot on the stove and turned on the burner.

“I’m not sick, Abby,” Tony protested, leaning against the counter.

“Not yet,” Abby replied, looking through his cabinets for a bowl. “And now you won’t be.

“You didn’t need to go through so much trouble.”

Abby whirled on him, brandishing a bowl like a weapon. “Don’t you say that, Anthony DiNozzo! I know what you did yesterday. You saved Gibbs and I can’t ever do enough to thank you for that. Can’t you just let me take care of you?”

Tony held up his hands in defeat. Getting Abby riled up was never a good thing, and he had a feeling he knew why she was upset. He imagined she’d tried this routine on Gibbs and he’d very gently kicked her out; the boss didn’t like being coddled, not even by Abby. He wondered just how much soup she’d made in the last two days.

“Okay, okay. I give in.”

Abby set the bowl on the counter, her eyes over-bright with unshed tears. “I was worried about you. Your lungs aren’t that strong, and you were in the water so much. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Tony pulled her into a much more restrained hug and rubbed her back. “I’m fine, Abbs. I promise.”

“You didn’t come to see Gibbs,” she sniffled.

“Figured he had a full house,” Tony said with a shrug. Abby pulled back, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

“What’s going on with you, Tony? Something’s not right.”

Tony pulled away. “Only thing not right is that bowl still being empty.”

Abby studied him for another minute and he wondered if this was how trace evidence felt under the microscope. Finally Abby shook her head and went to ladle some soup into the bowl.

“You’re a big hero, Tony, so I’m gonna let that go for now. Don’t think you can try it again tomorrow.”

Tony suppressed a grin and sat down at the table. Abby set the bowl in front of him; it was almost over-full, the broth accented with thick chunks of chicken and vegetables. He took a deep breath and suddenly realized he was starving. It seemed days ago since he’d had that half bagel and he tucked right in. Abby got herself a bowl as well, and they ate in companionable silence.

“I’ll take care of this. You go relax and we can watch a movie,” Abby said when they’d finished, pushing Tony towards the living room. He went willingly, still quite tired, and looked through his DVD collection.

“Do you have any Tupperware?” Abby called from the kitchen.

“Do I look like a Tupperware kind of guy?” Tony called back.

There was no reply, so he turned his attention back to the movies until he found one he thought she’d like. While he waited, he rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. He didn’t know who he was kidding, putting in for a leave. As if any of them would leave him alone. Part of him was surprised, and more than a little happy, to see how much his friends cared about him. And yet he couldn’t help wishing that Gibbs would be the next one through his door, as much as didn’t want to see him.

Tony was jostled out of his thoughts when Abby plunked down next to him on the couch. She propped her black-booted feet on the coffee table and offered him some popcorn from the large bowl she held in her lap.

“What’d you do? Pop the whole box?”

“Hey, I like popcorn with movies! You don’t have to have any. So what are we watching?”

“Better Off Dead.”

“Oh, I love that movie! ‘I want my two dollars!’”

Tony laughed, abandoning his dark thoughts for the next hour or so. He and Abby ate popcorn, quoted favorite lines, and laughed. It was the best Tony had felt in days. And if he fell asleep before the end credits rolled, he knew Abby wouldn’t hold it against him.

*o*o*o*

Tony woke the next morning after another restless night plagued with nightmares. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, and Abby had left him there with a blanket tucked up around him. He’d moved to his bedroom, but the bad dreams had followed him there and he was starting another day tired and irritable. Finding Ziva siting at his kitchen table did nothing to improve his mood.

“What are you doing here?” he grumped.

Ziva nodded toward the paper bag on the table. “Coffee and a breakfast burrito.”

“Hmm. That almost makes up for you picking my lock.” Tony shuffled off to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later he was clean and a bit more awake, and ready for that burrito.

“You eat already?” Tony asked, noting that there was only enough breakfast for one.

“Unlike you, I get up much earlier.”

“It’s the weekend, Ziva. Most people sleep in.”

“I am not most people.”

“No kidding,” Tony mumbled. He took a long swallow of coffee, noting that Ziva had gotten it just the way he liked it. One thing you had to say about NCIS agents – they were nothing if not observant.

“You here to tell me what a hero I was?” Tony asked between mouthfuls. “Or nag at me?”

“I am here about your leave of absence.”

Trust Ziva to get right to the point. She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Are you leaving NCIS?”

“Why? You want my desk?”

“This is serious, Tony.”

Of course it was, Tony thought with a sigh. Everything with Ziva was serious. He took an oversized bite of the burrito and made a big show out of chewing it.

“It is alright to be scared,” Ziva said softly. Tony choked on his scrambled eggs.

“Scared? Of what? You taking my job?” He took another swallow of coffee. The truth was, that’s exactly what he was afraid of. Ziva and McGee both had their strong points, and either of them would be able to take over as senior field agent. Hell, Gibbs had gotten along just fine before he’d joined the team.

“I do not want your job, Tony. Not yet.” Ziva raised one sculptured eyebrow at him to show she was joking. “I want to know what you are thinking.”

“This hour of the morning? Not much.” Tony balled up the burrito wrapper and tossed it back in the paper bag.

“You are thinking it is better to leave him first, yes?”

Tony scowled. “What are you, a Moussad psychiatrist now?”

“I am only trying to help you, Tony. We are poles, are we not?”

“Pals. And no, we’re not.” Tony grabbed the paper bag and the empty coffee cup and took them into the kitchen, stuffing them in the garbage pail under the sink. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him alone? He was suffocating under their questions and their concern and their…soup. He slammed the cabinet door shut, then did it a few more times just because he wanted to.

“Just talk to him,” Ziva said from the doorway.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Tony replied without turning around.

“You are making a mistake if you leave,” she said.

“Yeah, well, it’s my mistake to make.”

*o*o*o*

Gibbs sat in his car, looking up at DiNozzo’s apartment building. His senior agent was in there, clearly going through something judging by the visits he’d had from Abby and Ziva. Apparently McGee’s initial assessment was correct. Now they were all looking at him to put things right, trusting that he’d be able to help Tony. He had a feeling it would take more than a head slap this time.

“Man up, Marine.” Straightening his spine, Gibbs got out of his car and headed inside. He’d promised his team that he’d do his best and that’s exactly what he’d do. Ziva was concerned that Tony would be leaving NCIS altogether, and Gibbs had to admit that the thought of carrying on without Tony wasn’t a happy one. The man was a damn good agent, and honestly there wasn’t anyone else he trusted as much to have on his six. He realized belatedly that perhaps that was something he should tell Tony. Why was he always holding back praise, when he knew how much the younger man craved it?

Gibbs rapped on the door and then waited. He heard some movement from inside, and his breath caught when Tony opened the door. The kid looked like crap, his eyes shadowed and his skin pale. He looked back at Gibbs, defeat written large in his green eyes.

“You gonna let me in, DiNozzo?”

“Yeah. Sure. You got anyone else out there with you? Director Vance? SecNav? They’re about the only ones who haven’t stopped by.”

Tony backed up and let his boss in. Gibbs took a minute to study him, and the overall impression he got was one of exhaustion. He obviously wasn’t sleeping. Nor was he dressed for company, wearing an old gray Ohio State tee shirt and a pair of baggy, well-worn sweat pants.

“You want some coffee, Boss?” Tony asked, shuffling into the kitchen without waiting for an answer. Gibbs stayed behind, wandering around the living room looking at the impressive DVD collection and the few photos that adorned the shelves. Not surprisingly, most were pictures of the NCIS team at various official functions, everyone dressed up and smiling. But interspersed with these were candids that had clearly been taken at crime scenes, and Gibbs found he liked those better; Ziva shading her eyes and looking at something in the distance, McGee working on a sketch, Ducky and Palmer arguing, Gibbs himself with a rare smile.

“What’s on your mind, Boss?” Tony asked, coming into the room and handing Gibbs a cup of coffee.

“That’s my line, DiNozzo.”

Tony sat on the couch, stretching himself out and giving the impression that he was completely at ease; Gibbs wasn’t fooled.

“Just taking a few days, Boss. Things have been a bit…stressful.” Tony waved his hand dismissively.

“You think I’m gonna buy that line of crap?” He wanted Tony to drop the act. He needed to know what was going on with him, underneath his carefully calculated façade. Getting him angry was the quickest way to the heart of the matter.

“Since when do I have to explain personal time?” Tony sat up, relaxed replaced by rigid. “I have it and I want to use it.”

“I need you on the job.”

“You don’t need me at all!” Tony said, then immediately clenched his jaw and looked away.

Anger was starting to burn in Gibbs’ belly, but it wasn’t directed at Tony. It was for the man who’d raised him to think he was worthless. It didn’t matter what his son had managed to achieve in his life, the doubts that DiNozzo Senior had planted all those years ago managed to negate it every time.

“You need to get your head on right,” Gibbs said.

“I can’t!” Tony cried, anguish palpable in his voice. He buried his head in his hands.

Not for the first time, Gibbs wished he was better at all this emotional stuff. Feeling awkward and unsure, he set the coffee down on the nearest shelf and sat on the coffee table, bumping knees with Tony.

“Whatever’s going on with you, we can deal with it,” Gibbs said. “But you have to talk to me.”

“You want to deal with me?” Tony looked at him, fire burning in his eyes. “You were dead, Gibbs. You died for a girl you didn’t even know. You…left me…”

Gibbs marveled at the strength of will Tony had, watched as he took control over himself even as some of that fire drained away and left behind pain and fear. He wished he could be the father figure that DiNozzo so badly needed, but something in him wouldn’t settle for that. Something in him wanted more, and he knew he couldn’t have it.

“So you’re gonna leave me instead?” he asked softly.

“I can’t do it anymore,” Tony said. He got up and started to pace. “All those girls, all those dates, they were all lies. Here’s a newsflash for you! Tony DiNozzo likes guys. Poor Probie will be so disillusioned.”

Gibbs closed his eyes for a moment, calling on his own deep recesses of patience. He knew he had to tread carefully here.

“I already know that, DiNozzo.”

Tony stopped, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I’m an investigator. I see things. That’s what I do.”

“You’ve never _seen_ me!” Tony snapped, and the venom in his tone made Gibbs wince. “Out of everyone I ever knew, you were the one I wanted to see me. The only one…the only one who would…understand.”

He dropped back down on the couch, as far from Gibbs as he could get, and covered his face with his hands again, hiding himself away. His next words were barely a whisper, and muffled by his hands, but Gibbs heard them well enough and he felt a blossom of pain in his chest.

“I love you.”

An uncomfortable silence grew between them, until Tony started to laugh. It was a hard, bitter sound.

“Well, I rendered you speechless with that one, didn’t I?” He looked over at Gibbs, his eyes red. “It’s like a cheesy romantic comedy. Boy falls for older man who can’t love him back. A real tear jerker.”

“Dammit, DiNozzo!” Gibbs scrubbed a hand over his face. “Don’t you know why?”

“Yeah,” Tony muttered, turning away. “Cause you’re a straight arrow and I’m a screw up. I got it.”

“Rule twelve.”

“What?” Tony looked at him, startled.

“Rule twelve. Never date a co-worker.”

Tony sniffed derisively. “Like I’m supposed to believe that’s the only reason you don’t want me.”

Gibbs could hear the self-loathing in his voice and it tore at him. He’d told McGee he could fix this, but he doubted himself now. This had become too much about him and his own feelings, and no matter what happened things were going to change. He wasn’t big on change. And yet it was always inevitable.

“When…Shannon died, I thought that was it for me.” Rule 28. Don’t go with a lie if the situation is better served by the truth. “I never thought I’d have those feelings for anyone else. And despite my impressive number of ex wives, I never did. Till I…ah…met you.”

“Am I supposed to believe that?” Tony asked contemptuously. But Gibbs could see in his eyes that he wanted to.

“Every time we go out in the field there’s a chance one of us won’t be coming back,” Gibbs said, trying to make him understand. “Do you have any idea what losing you would do to me?”

“Just another…friend…lost in the line. Like Kate.” 

And it still hurt, thinking of Kate. Gibbs got off the coffee table and sat next to Tony, close enough that his leg pressed against DiNozzo’s. And maybe it was selfish and ill-timed, but he reveled even in that much physical contact.

“No. Look at me, DiNozzo.” His tone brooked no arguments and Tony was too well trained to ignore a direct command. He looked at Gibbs with tired, defeated eyes.

“You’ve never been just a friend, not to me. And if I let you all the way in, I don’t think I’d survive the loss of you.”

He’d come close, so many times. Tony had the uncanny knack of leaping before he looked, sometimes literally. How many times had he been kidnapped? How many nights had Gibbs woken up in a cold sweat, remembering how it felt to watch Tony’s car blow up with him presumably inside?

“Then you know how I feel,” Tony said quietly. “You were dead, Gibbs.”

He put his head back in his hands, and Gibbs knew it was to hide the tears in his eyes. Tony shuddered just once, and then Gibbs could almost hear the walls sliding back into place. He didn’t want to lose DiNozzo and it was starting to seem inevitable. Rule twelve be damned. It was time to own up to his feelings, to stop denying himself and punishing the man he cared about so much.

“Ah, hell,” Gibbs muttered. He put his hands on either side of Tony’s face, forcing his head up. Looked him right in the eye, feeling a stab at the sorrow and longing he saw there. And then he kissed him.

*o*o*o*

Tony froze, unable to move or even think. Gibbs was kissing him. On the lips. And he just sat there with his hands in his lap like an idiot. He tried to process what Gibbs had told him, tried to understand that he liked him the way he’d always wanted. It couldn’t be a lie. Could it?

He pulled back, breathing hard. “Gibbs? What?”

Gibbs dropped his hands, his face turning red.

“Boss?”

“I’m not good at this, DiNozzo. I don’t talk about my feelings, and I don’t like losing control.”

Tony could see his lips moving, but his words weren’t registering. All he could hear, over and over, was _Gibbs kissed me_. He didn’t even realize he was crying until Gibbs reached over and brushed the tears away with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” Gibbs said softly.

“Breaking another rule?” Tony asked, his breath hitching in his throat. He was minutes away from embarrassing himself, but found he was completely unwilling to move.

“I don’t know what happens now,” Gibbs admitted. “It won’t be easy.”

“You want me,” Tony said, still not quite believing it. “You want _me_.”

“Yeah, DiNozzo. I want you.”

Unable to stop it from happening, Tony started crying in earnest and went to cover his face with his hands, mortified to be losing it in front of his boss. But Gibbs grabbed hold of his wrists and pulled him to his chest, hugging him tightly.

“We’ll work it out, Tony,” Gibbs murmured in his ear. “I’ve got your six.”

Tony sat back, rubbing an arm across his eyes. He could feel a smile spreading across his face and he was helpless to stop it.

“I think that’s my line, Boss.”

Gibbs whacked him in the back of the head, but that only made Tony grin more.

“You know, this reminds me of a movie…”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author’s Note:** This is my very first NCIS fic, and I dedicate it to Smiles2Go, who used her evil mind powers to make this plot bunny attack me. You’re always inspiring me, even when I don’t want you to, so thanks!
> 
> While looking for inspiration for this fic, I heard the song Smile on the Hope Floats soundtrack, and just though it was so DiNozzo. Hiding so much behind that big ole grin. I just had to borrow it. 
> 
> At the time I wrote this there was no Rule 28, to the best of my knowledge, so I felt free to make my own. Also, I don’t know exactly what the repercussions of Tony’s bout with the plague would have been, but surely there would be something. Especially since Ducky mentions during season 5 episode 1 that his lungs would have significant scarring. I’m not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV, so all mistakes are honestly made and I hope you won’t hold them against me. ::grins:: 
> 
> For any sticklers out there, I know Lyle Lovett isn't the first person to sing this song, but his version is the one I like the best. So there!


End file.
